


Old, New, Broken, Blue

by masoochthemooch



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Horrible Puns, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Minor Swearing, i'veneverpostedonao3beforeidkwhatelsetotag, like really it's just one time but hey can't be too careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masoochthemooch/pseuds/masoochthemooch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't ask for this.<br/>She just wanted a normal day.<br/>She just wanted to bake a pie...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, hello! I am unsure what to say here! But here, have a little fic I wrote recently. Tbh this is the first fanfic I've actually finished in YEARS. So! Here goes nothing! Chances are i'll find things to edit later and I'll probs cry but! No time like the present to post a thing! Note: I suck at summaries... and titles... good lord I'm sorry ;u;
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! - MtM
> 
>  
> 
> {4/27 EDIT: WOW friends, guess who forgot to add a large section of story before this got posted! AND guess who FORGOT about canon game occurrences! Spoilers: me! So yes, I will be editing a later chapter soon. Very soon. Like, it's open in a google doc the next tab over soon. Later! - MtM}

She walked along the crumbling corridors of the catacombs, watering can in hand.

A somber tune echoed on as she passed. She often hummed as she worked.

Her work was a way to pass the time, really, for she was not particularly needed.

The flowers she cared for had their own share of sunlight and rain, distant though it may be.

How lucky they were; some have neither.

High above—too far to reach—the cavern ceiling was cracked and broken, leaving a gaping hole to the outside world.

Without it, she sometimes doubted she would be able to remember whether it was day or night.

The dependence... could drive someone mad.

She stopped beneath the hole to the sky and gazed up.

It was day.

A tension released in her chest, and she let out a sigh of relief she had not known she’d been holding.

She had not been wrong this time.

Glittering droplets of water briefly darkened and rustled the patch of flowers when she tipped the can.

Far above, she could hear birds singing.

When her chore was done, she stayed a moment, her soft stare glazing over every detail she had already memorized about this chamber.

Every leaf, every petal, every... mound of soil.

Ache suddenly clutched her soul, like an eager child’s hand around a crabapple.

Such a grip could bruise, and this was no different.

Without a word she turned and stalked back into the depths of the Ruins.

She did not hum this time.

Little monsters watched her go, too intimidated to question the quickness in her step.

She did not mean to make them afraid of her (or pity her, as she expected they were doing now) but a smile would not be found on her face this day.

The anniversary of her children’s deaths.

 

* * *

 

The little monsters’ stares remained with her.

Even alone, in her own house, she could feel them.

She adored them all—each one down to the last spider.

But the sadness in their eyes today, the knowing.

It took every ounce of her strength not to curl into a ball and cry.

She leaned against the door of her children’s room, staring at the empty bed.

Well, it was her children’s room in some sense of the word.

It has served as more of a guestroom for quite some time.

Those who stayed there, though...

The ache tightened around her soul, and she jerked forward in a broken sob.

It would seem her strength had reached its limit.

She sank to the floor, kneeling on the carpet that had been trampled and dirtied by too many tiny feet.

Though she covered her eyes in a sorry attempt to stop the tears, she could still see the stares of the little creatures.

In her mind, the weepy eyes of a Whimsun morphed into the watery eyes of her son.

The pitiful look of a Loox became the fearful yet calm face of her second child, pale and sallow and too small in their sickbed.

_“Am I gonna die, mom?”_

She wrapped her arms around her middle, biting back a cry of anguish as more monster eyes transformed to those of the children who had bested her, who had left her, who she knew she would never see again.

Even after all these years, the hurt was still there.

Minutes passed that felt to her like hours, her frequent sniffles the only sounds in the still, somewhat dusty room.

To think that she had planned to have a normal day today.

With deep, even breaths, she gradually calmed herself down.

Her blurry gaze swept the room and landed on the box of shoes along the far wall.

Each child who fell into her care had depended on her, and each had left, their fates unknown yet so painfully obvious.

The thought brought on a wave of guilt.

One more... by her count, they needed just one more human soul...

She had one more chance.

Whatever pain was rising up inside her own soul, she would not let it take her completely.

She would be strong for the next human to fall into her arms.

Standing, she promptly left the room, the only evidence of her small breakdown being the blood red that now cracked the whites of her eyes.

She had no time to think about her appearance now, however.

She had a pie to bake.


	2. Chapter 2

Fire magic had made up the majority of her repertoire for ages now.

It was a versatile craft, if done well.

And she did it very, very well.

On a good day, smells of spices and warmth and home could reach the farthest corners of the Ruins.

She found on such days that the little monsters did not seem as anxious around her as they usually did.

The thought warmed her heart, though some made it too obvious they just wanted a slice of whatever it was she had baked that day.

A chuckle rumbled from her throat as, with a flick of the wrist, tongues of flame winked into existence and enclosed around the unbaked pan of butterscotch cinnamon pie.

It was, as she recalled, her children’s favorite.

She had a mind to bake enough for all the residents of the Ruins—quite the feat, but she could manage—but as this was a newly crafted recipe, she settled on one as a test.

In minutes she had a perfectly baked pie, golden brown with a small wisp of steam trailing from its center.

It was too hot to test just yet, so she placed it by the open window sill to cool.

She was about to turn away when something outside the window—something small and yellow—caught her eye.

It stood bright against the black bark of the old, leafless tree in the front yard and rustled lightly in the breeze.

Or it would, if there were ever a breeze in the Ruins.

With a protective glance at the pie on the sill, she padded to her front door with a strange sense of curiosity.

Or was it… longing?

She could not tell.

When she looked to the tree from her open door, there was nothing there.

No little yellow flower to be seen.

 _Odd,_ she thought, _golden flowers do not often grow so far into the Ruins._

At least, she thought it had been a flower.

What else could it have been?

She put a hand to her head, feeling the dull throb of a headache coming on.

It was then that she noticed the small bundle on her front step.

Sitting at her feet was a small bouquet of golden flowers and buttercups, accented by red leaves and tied neatly with a little ivy vine.

She peered around the yard, craning her neck in an attempt to see around the tree or behind the distant bushes, but there was no one.

Gingerly, she lifted the bouquet from the step, marveling at the sweetness of the gesture, and found a small card attached to the vine.

The crest of the kingdom was drawn (rather sloppily) on the front, while the inside held a single, crookedly-scripted word: _“Condolences.”_

She brought the bouquet to her nose, smelling the fresh sweetness of the flowers, and sighed, staring at the simple card with the simple message.

The saccharine scent of butterscotch mixed with prickling cinnamon wafted from the sill and wrapped around her, enveloping her in a blanket of fragrance and nostalgia.

The raw emotion she had felt earlier came creeping back.

Only this time, the ache embraced her soul rather than clawed at it.

Rather than the pain, the sadness, the fear, she felt the love that she had shared with her children all those years ago.

She hummed another light sigh and, allowing the tears welled at the corners of her eyes to run down her cheeks, she called out to whoever might be listening.

“Thank you! Thank you...”

It was a shame that no one replied, as she would have liked to give them the first slice of pie.

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, the pie was still too hot to test.

That was fine, though, as she found little odds and ends to do in the spare time.

She set the bouquet in a vase on the living room table, turning it this way and that until she found an angle she liked.

She remembered to look up that one snail recipe she planned on making soon.

She scratched down in her journal a particularly funny joke she had heard one Froggit ribbit to another a day prior.

She changed the month of the calendar, having forgotten to do so for a good week or so.

She eyed the date, noting the small star in the corner of the day’s square.

She could not remember marking it.

She looked to the staircase leading downstairs, tapping a claw on the side table where she stood.

She wondered how long it had been since she had been down there.

She ignored the thought and read.

She smelled the bouquet.

She tapped her foot.

She read some more.

She waited.

She paced.

She held a hand over the pie, feeling the steam and growing impatient.

Surely it was cooled by now...

But...

On a whim—or perhaps it was something stronger—she took slow steps toward the staircase.

For some reason, she wanted to see the door.


	3. Chapter 3

She glided along the basement corridor, her feet making the soft _shff shff_ sounds of fur against stone with each step.

Her hands were clasped together, fingers wringing and twisting as her anticipation mounted.

The door to the rest of the underground made her... in a simple word, nervous.

She had fled her kingdom, her home, and her husband so very long ago, and it would be so simple to unseal the door and return to that world.

So incredibly simple...

But such a return would give Asgore what he wanted—what he _truly_ wanted—acceptance.

Her return would tell him that she had changed her mind—about him, about the humans, about the barrier.

She could not allow that.

Never could she forgive him for the horrors he had committed right under her nose, for those that he was undoubtedly still committing today.

Never would she forgive him for murdering the children she had tried to protect.

And she would make sure that the message was clear.

Her lip curled in a snarl that so rarely formed on her face. _‘For the sake of monsterkind,’ my left cheek._

The corridor made a sharp left turn, and she was face to face with the first door—twin paneled and bearing the kingdom’s crest.

A narrow passage connected this door to the other, and she made a point of keeping _both_ of them sealed.

No one was to come in or go out without her say-so, which was always a reluctant one.

She would usually be satisfied with checking this door, making sure a curious or confused Vegetoid had not burrowed in or something of the like, but something compelled her to traverse the long corridor.

Before she realized what she was doing, she raised her hand to nullify the sealing spell.

Tendrils of pale magic congealed in her palm and twisted around her fingers, wisps fading into the air a few inches above the tips of her claws.

Her fingertips were a hair’s breadth from the dull purple stone when she hesitated.

Why was she down here?

It was clear the door was closed, and the other one surely was, she had no doubt.

So what did she expect to find here, on the anniversary of the day she lost everything?

Some sign?

Some tell that she had done the right thing in leaving?

Her hand lowered, falling to her side.

Magic fizzled and fell away from her, drifting to nothing as it dusted the floor.

_Had_ she done the right thing?

She wondered that sometimes—if leaving had been an act of duty and self-sacrifice, or just an impulse of defiance, grief, and anger.

Either way, returning was, as said, not an option.

Surely not... right?

Long ears flopped wildly about as she shook her head.

“Come now, Toriel,” she chided herself in a hoarse whisper, having rarely spoken at all today. “What is the matter with you?”

Day in and day out she has been the self-proclaimed guardian of this passage, of these two doors, of the link between the guided level of the human’s journey and the true game.

Such was the pinnacle aspect of her quest: to defy the disturbing intentions of her husband, her former king.

Fists clenched and brow knitted.

And defy she would for the sake of humanity.

The same pale magic blazed again around her hand, weaving and twirling, stronger this time, brighter.

This was _her_ domain, and she would not be intimidated by a phantom of her husband.

_Nothing_ would make her proceed through that second door and give him that satisfaction.

Glowing hand pressed against cool stone, and the kingdom’s crest became emblazoned with light, spiderwebbing until solid.

All at once, the light faded, and with an audible shift of rock, the two halves of the door separated, inches apart, unsealed.

With minimal effort, Toriel wrenched the door apart and strode down the corridor with the utmost grace and murderous dignity of a queen.

 

* * *

 

What Toriel found at the end of the passage was as anticlimactic as one may assume.

She found the second door, unopened and un-tampered with.

Her hands found her hips, and she once again questioned her presence here.

The internal argument she thought she had just conquered once again came into play.

“Whatever did I think I was going to find here, hm? A note from Asgore? ‘Just kidding, Toriel. Come home, I have the six children you thought I slaughtered. We’re having a _lovely_ tea party and—’”

Her venting devolved into a groan; she dragged a hand down her face before shifting it to cover her mouth, muffling her noises of frustration.

She started pacing up and down the narrow hall, and her motherlike scolding continued at just above a murmur.

“Idiotic, _truly_ , Toriel. And it had to be _today_ of all days, of course! As though you were not already _seeing things_ a-and breaking down in fits, oh good angel above... I just wanted to bake a pie.”

Her tired eyes rested upon the second door.

“I did not think that I would have to deal with _you_ , today. Or any other moral dilemma, thank you very much.”

The door did not respond.

Toriel let out a breathy laugh and raised her hands in disbelief. “And now, I am talking to a door.”

She gave the large door a final, disapproving glare before turning about and striding back up the hallway.

“Next thing I know, it will be talking back. Ohoho... would that not be love—”

_Knock knock._

Toriel stopped in her tracks, wide-eyed.

Was that—? Did she—? No...

_Knock knock._

Slowly, she turned to the door, leaning back and scrutinizing it.

Now, she knew she had gone mad.

Hallucinating knocking, _ha!_

Next she would be hearing voi—

“Hey, bro. Check out this door. Heh. Looks perfect for knock-knock jokes, don’tcha think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness gracious me, now WHO could that be behind that door? :0
> 
> Heh, I've always wanted to know how they met c:
> 
> \--MtM


	4. Chapter 4

Toriel immediately covered her mouth in shock.

_ Monsters _ ?

Monsters who were taller than two feet (presumably)?

She... she had not spoken to anyone in the rest of the underground for too many years to count.

The thought was terrifying.

She was a sociable woman, of course, and she would like nothing more than to meet the monster behind the voice, but she had been out of touch with the rest of her world for so long...

The thought alone could make anyone nervous.

And yet, she felt a certain excitement, as well.

Who was this monster?

Was he—she assumed he was male, as his voice was rather deep—going to try to get into the Ruins?

Did he... work for Asgore?

Should she strengthen her sealing spell? prepare to fight? run back to the house and get the pie and two plates?

She was at a loss, so she settled with sliding over to the door, quiet and slow as a Moldsmal on a cold day, and listening.

Eavesdropping was completely against her principles, but surely the circumstance could allow for a little rule-bending.

A different voice was speaking now, this one shriller and haughtier than the first.

“—knock jokes at a time like this! Do you  _ want _ to be fired on your first day?!”

“I mean, hey, if it’ll give me more time to start up that hot dog stand I’ve wanted, then I think I’ll come out the  _ wiener _ , huh?”

It was a good thing Toriel had kept her hand covering her mouth, because she nearly snorted.

She did enjoy a good pun.

The second voice let out a wail as though he’d been hit. “It would be  _ illegal _ , brother. We’ve been over this.”

“Aw, man, must’ve missed it. Mind playing  _ ketchup _ with me?”

Toriel bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Enough with the puns! We are on duty, don’t you see? This is the first step to my becoming the most popular Royal Guardsman in the underground! Don’t mess this up for me!”

“Heh. Yeah, bud, don’t worry, I get it. So, what exactly is it we have to do on Day One?”

“Now hold on,” the shriller voice said. There was a rustling of paper. “Undyne gave me a list. She... hmm...  ‘Get familiar with the forest, nerds.’ That’s the first thing.”

“Well we’ve reached the end. That’s the door to the old city, right? Think we can look around inside?”

Toriel felt a pang of fear.

Were they going to try to get in?

“Yes, it is the old city, and it’s been closed for ages, you should know this from school.”

“Huh. Guess I  _ must _ ’ve _ ard _ wrong in history class.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Like... like mustard? Must’ve heard?  _ Must _ ’v _ ard?  _ Heh? Heh?”

Toriel pressed her lips together, anticipating the reaction.

“That was incredibly awful, even for you.”

“But you’re smiling.”

“Am not!”

“Are, too.”

“Am  _ not!” _

“Are, too.”

_ “Am not!” _

“Are not.”

“Am,  _ too!” _

“Oh, really? Great, thought so,” the comic monster mused, satisfied.

Toriel heard a frustrated groan.

She shook her head, reminiscing.  _ Siblings are all alike. _

“ _ Enough!”  _ the shriller monster repeated. “Yes, we’ve traversed the forest. This is the end of the forest. We have seen the entirety of the forest.”

“Yeeup, looks pretty end-of-forest-y alright. So now what?”

“Next is... ‘Pick a spot to keep your sh—’ oh my…”

“What?” There was the soft crunch of footsteps in snow. “Wait, she really wrote ‘shit’? That’s hilarious.”

“Yes, well…” The sound of folding paper. “There must have been a good reason, I think. Bottom line, we have to set up our sentry stations.”

_ Sentries? All the way out here?  _ Toriel thought, fear crawling up her back.  _ Asgore must be growing desperate. _

“Set up our…? What?” the first voice whined. “By ourselves? Paps, that takes… effort, though.”

“Unbelievable! You would defy your captain’s orders on the first day of your job?!”

“I dunno, can’t say I really  _ relish _ the thought—I’m sorry, bro, come on, last one, I—hey watch where you’re swingin’!” There was the  _ woosh _ of air and a muffled… rattling sound? “Okay okay that was the last one, heh heh, I promise...” This comedian one sounded out of breath. “Really, though, can’t say I relish the thought of having to take orders from her from now on... She’s, uh, not exactly—”

“What are you saying?! Undyne is the coolest! Ooh, ooh, remember when she suplexed that boulder that fell in the middle of Snowdin? I mean, wowie… That was amazing!”

Footsteps approached the door.

Toriel reflexively tensed up.

“Ah, yeah... I remember. Pretty amazing. Listen, bud, be careful around her, okay?”

There was a pang of concern in his voice, one Toriel was incredibly familiar with, having often used it herself.

It was the tone of a parent.

“Why? She’s going to make a proper guardsman out of me, brother! The Great Papyrus shall become even  _ more _ great, impossible though it may seem.”

“Of course you are. You’re gonna be the best, really, I just don’t want you getting hurt, y’know? She just seems… what’s a nice way to put it?” He hummed to himself, presumably in thought. “She’s nuts.”

“Nonsense! You just don’t know her as well as I do!”

“We both met her at the same time, bro, and that time you waited outside her house until morning? Doesn’t exactly count as buddy-buddy bonding time.”

Toriel heard the angry stomping of a foot in the snow.

“Whatever! Whatever! What _ ever! _ Just find your post!  _ I _ already know where mine is going. Just a ways before that bridge we crossed.”

“What, all the way out here?”

“Of course! If a human comes along, I want to be the first one to find it! And capture it! Ooh, brother, just  _ think _ of how popular I will become!”

Toriel felt a sudden swell of anger, hearing this sentry regard humans as glorified pets.

She smelled smoke and, alarmed, realized that unintentional fire magic had singed a section of her robe.

She lifted her hand quickly and shook away the embers now stuck in her fur.

“Oh, I’m definitely thinking about it. Guess you won’t see me that often, though, I’m gonna set up by Doggo’s.”

“Oh, no you are not. I forbid you from working within a half-mile’s distance of anyone in your Grillby’s posse.”

“Uhh, what?”

“Like-minded company will only give you more of a reason to slack off! Which you do at home enough as it is.”

“Aw, Paps, you’ve gotta be ki—”

“No ‘buts,’ brother—”

“No  _ buns,  _ either?”

“Set u—oh my god, will you please?” The shrill sentry sighed. “Set up your station near mine so I can keep an eye on you.”

The reluctant sentry let out a low chuckle, his footsteps getting even closer.

“Alright, alright.” There was a grunt, and the light shuffle of snow, as the sentry sat down against the door. “You’re the  _ wiener _ this time, buddy.”

“Again?!” The shrill sentry made a low whine. “Why…? Just why?”

Toriel heard the  _ shff _ of fabric on stone, assuming a shrug. “Just ‘cause. Hey, Paps, I’m gonna hang here a while, okay? Work on my stand-up a bit. Needs more knock-knock jokes, anyway.”

More footsteps, from the shrill sentry this time. “You  _ need _ to set up your  _ station _ …” he warned.

“And I will, don’t even worry about it. Go on and set yours up. I’m sure it’s gonna look a hell of a lot better than mine will.”

“Hmm... This is true. Oh, very well. I guess I will…  _ meat _ up with you later, then! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!”

The piercing guffaw this shrill sentry let out was like nothing Toriel had ever heard before. His mirthful cry continued, fading fast along with his bounding footsteps as he ran off.

“Oh, my god,” the remaining sentry murmured. He added with a shout, “I’m so proud of you, bro! I’ll  _ ketchup _ with you later, too!”

 

* * *

 

Toriel’s entire frame shook, from the laughter that was aching her ribs and the fear that this monster, his power unknown, would try to break through the door to the Ruins.

Should she... say something?

She had been listening for so long; would announcing herself be awkward?

Not announcing herself felt just as awkward.

Before she could decide, the monster again spoke.

“Door to the old city, huh? Not bad. Ominous. Very… purple?”

Toriel had to convince herself that he was not talking to her, though it may oddly sound that way.

“Guess this isn’t as bad as the last job. Hoo, that was… that was a trip. S’more likely than not, come to think, considering I barely remember anything about it, heh heh…”

Toriel tilted her head, curious.

Silently, she lowered herself to the floor of the passage, shifting herself to lean against the door.

Perhaps it would be acceptable to listen just a bit more.

He seemed harmless enough, plus she would like to hear a few more jokes.

She did love them so.

“Knock-knock jokes… let’s see…”

After some moments of silence, he rapped twice on the door.

Toriel, suddenly giddy, opened her mouth to answer, then shut it quickly in shock.

_ What’s the matter with you, Toriel?! Harmless though he seems, he could just as well report you to Asgore. _

It was no matter whether or not she answered.

The sentry muttered, “Who’s there? Boo. Boo who? Don’t cry, it was just a joke.”

And a bad one, at that.

Toriel shook her head, yet felt a smile tug at her lips.

“Yeah, that one’s always sucked… Uh…”

_ Knock knock. _

“Who’s there? Little old lady. Little old lady, who? Hey, I didn’t know you could yodel.”

Toriel snickered, and the following silence made her stomach drop.

Had she been heard?

_ Knock knock. _

Apparently not.

“Who’s there? Annie. Annie who? Annie-body gonna open the door?”

This time, the sentry chuckled along with her.

He had a higher laugh than she thought; it was different from the rumbling one from before.

It seemed… lighter, now. More genuine.

He continued on for several minutes, and with each passing punchline, Toriel found it harder and harder to keep quiet.

She was nearly doubled over when he said, “Oh god, heh heh… okay, okay.” He was out of breath. “Last one.”

_ Knock knock. _

In a fit of what she would later call insanity, Toriel responded between fits of giggles.

“Who’s there?”

It took half a second for her to realize what she had done.

Her heart dropped as the chuckles of the sentry immediately died.

Hand clamped to her lips, posture rigid, she awaited his response in deathly silence, not daring herself to speak again.

Meanwhile, her thoughts were a frenzy.

_ Oh goodness oh my oh dear what should I do he surely heard me there is no question what should I do? _

This sentry was no fool, she could tell.

Were she to say anything more, he would surely bring the Royal Guard.

No question at all.

She would be found, reported to the king, perhaps made a prisoner.

She could not let that happen.

_ Knock... knock. _

It came slower this time—the two, more prominent knocks sounding unsure.

Toriel let them hang in the air, perplexed.

Then again, perhaps he would not alert someone?

If his humor was any hint, he could not be all that bad a fellow—despite the crippling lethargy that seemed to plague him…

A thought came to her.  _ If this sentry is as lazy as his brother claims… _

She suddenly felt that she had nothing to worry about.

Her hand fell away from her face, and she stared into her lap.

“Wh-who’s there?” she said with forced cheer.

A low gasp and the quick shuffle of snow. “Wh-wh… what?!”

Toriel whirled around onto her knees, hands pressed against the stone.

“Oh, sir, I am so sorry!” she professed. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

She could hear pants on the other side, and briefly wondered how long it had been since the sentry had moved so quickly.

“Sir?” She pressed her ear against the door after the panting died down. “Sentry? Are you still there?”

Silence for a few moments, then, “Uhh… yeah.”

Toriel pressed a hand to her chest.

She had feared that he’d left.

“Allow me to explain. I—”

“You’re not actually a talking door? Heh, I figured. How long have you been there?”

Toriel blinked, not having any idea how much time had passed.

She shook her head. “Since you and your brother arrived, I believe.”

“My bro…” His voice faltered.

She could sense a twinge of fear to it.

“He seems to be a rather enthusiastic young man,” Toriel piped, trying to lighten the mood. “I am sure he will make a fine sentry. Paps, you called him? Is that short for anything?”

When he spoke again, his suave attitude from earlier had returned—voice deeper, calmer.

“Well, lady—least I assume you’re a lady—I don’t know who you are or how you got into the old city, but… I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my brother like you’re good buds, okay?”

Toriel felt herself shrink; she must have hit a sore spot.

“Ah… I do apologize.”

_Wonderful…_ _Now he’s sure to alert the guard. What did you expect out of today, Toriel? Did you think that dressing it up with gifts and sunlight and flowers and pies would change what it already is? And what it will always be?_

Nothing good comes from this day.

“I just…” she began, unsure of what to say. “Oh, goodness…”

“Something wrong there, lady?” There was an edge to his voice—guarded, defensive.

_ Perhaps he will make a fine sentry, as well. _

She sighed. “Nothing. I am sure you have something better to do than entreat an old woman like me. Have a good rest of your day.” She turned to walk back down the narrow corridor, planning to double the sealing spells on the Ruins-side door. As a last thought, she added, “Oh, I liked your jokes, by the way. You have a wonderful sense of humor.”

Her footsteps became the loudest noise in the hall, aside from the sniffs that unwittingly escaped her.

She barely heard the sentry when he asked, “You… like my jokes?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puns are not my strong suit, friends.  
> I do apologize.  
> Enjoy! --MtM

And so it was that Toriel found herself now sitting back to back with a mysterious stranger, a slab of magically-sealed stone between them, exchanging jokes of arguably the best variety and holding her sides where they were splitting from laughter.

“Alright so, heh heh…” the sentry was in the middle of saying, “So I’m reading a book about anti-gravity…”

“Mhmm…” Toriel hummed, lips twisted in a grin as she anticipated the punchline. “How is it?”

“It’s impossible to put down.”

Another wave of giddiness rolled through her. She had to remember this one for her journal.

_ My journal... _

“Ohoho… ooh ooh, sentry?” she chirped, remembering something.

He was in the middle of his own fit of chuckles—light as before, Toriel was pleased to hear. He paused long enough to say, “Heh heh, sup?”

Absently, she pressed at a stubborn wrinkle in her robe, using a pale sort of fire magic to make the cloth smooth again.

“I heard this one recently, here.” She paused for effect. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, lady, I’m so ready. Hit me.”

“Why are frogs such liars?”

“Why?” She could hear the laughter brimming in his voice already.

“Because they are am _ fib _ ians!”

The two burst into laughter, so much so that Toriel could feel tears return to her eyes.

“Oh, god. Heh heh, oh man, lady, I can’t breathe. I don’t even  _ need _ to but sti—eheh heh!”

Toriel’s giggles petered away as she registered what he said.

“Y-you do not need to breathe?”

Again the sound of a shrug. “Eh, don’t really have the  _ guts _ for it.”

Toriel forced a half-hearted chuckle, though she didn’t particularly understand what he meant. Out of curiosity, she asked, “What kind of monster are you?”

There was a long pause, and for the first time Toriel became aware of the chill coming through the door.

“Eh, pass.”

Toriel sagged against the door, mildly disappointed. She would have liked to fit a face to the voice.

“ _ I _ should be asking  _ you _ that,  _ tibia _ honest,” he said, chuckling to himself at another joke Toriel did not understand. “Y’know, being a  _ sentry _ and all. Gotta make reports and everything, apparently.”

A jolt went through her. The blissful fog had been in completely lifted, landing her back in reality. She was the runaway queen in a self-induced exile. She could not reveal her race to him—such would be an  _ obvious _ tell—and she would very much like to be excluded from any report.

“I…”

“Not that I ever will, I don’t think,” he interrupted. “Too much work. Doesn’t really matter, anyway, since nothing really happens out here, amirite?”

“Ah... yes. Right.”

She said nothing else.

“Hang on…” he said in the following silence, sounding thoughtful. “You’re not a human, are you?”

Toriel straightened.

“No,” she said outright, “I am not.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” There was a shuffle as he repositioned himself. “Couldn’t be that easy.”

“Easy?” Toriel’s brow furrowed.

“Capturing a human, I mean,” the sentry clarified. “Kind of the main reason I’m out here.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Heh, right.”

The two were quiet for a while.

Toriel traced the brick-pattern lines on the wall beside her with a claw.

She couldn’t think of any more jokes.

And it would seem that the sentry either didn’t mind or couldn’t, either.

“You ever see a human, lady?”

Toriel let her hand fall back to her lap.

“I have,” she said. “All of those who fell.”

“Damn, you must be old.”

Toriel smirked. “Rude, but true.”

“Heh heh… There haven’t been humans down here in… how long?”

“I do not remember,” she lied.

She counted the days.

A thought occurred to her. “Have  _ you _ seen them? The ones that have gotten through?”

Several heavy seconds passed before the sentry answered.

“A few of the more recent ones, yep.”

Toriel’s heart clenched. “H-how were they?”

The sound of another shrug. “Scared, I guess. Don’t really remember too much, either. It was a while ago.”

She felt like she’d just been slapped across the face.  _ Scared? My children… scared. _

“Are any of them alive?” she said quietly, a rumble creeping into her voice.

She knew the answer already, but a small part of her held onto the hope that...

“Nope, King got ‘em all, as far as I know.”

Toriel could feel anger coming to a boil inside of her. “I see.”

He’d said it so plainly. So matter-of-factly.

Did he care at all that it was murder?

“Hey… you okay, lady? I’m, uh, hearing some sizzling in there…”

Toriel noticed the trail of smoke first. Her anger fell away in an instant as she took in the smell of burnt fabric and the gaping, hand-sized hole in the middle of her robe, a few inches away from the mark she’d left before.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, shaking bits of fire magic from her claws and patting at embers still lit and creeping along the edges of the hole. “Again?!”

She danced to her feet, feeling bits of heat touch her legs. It wasn’t painful, but she would rather her fur not catch fire, as well. “Oh, damn it all, I just mended this one!”

“Did you just catch on fire?” the sentry asked.

“Ah, yes, I did...”

“Are you... okay?”

Toriel felt a wave of embarrassment and sighed. “For the most part, yes. What’s mostly singed is my pride, to be honest. I’m usually more in control of my magic...”

She let out a few other phrases of frustration before she noticed the hearty laugh coming from the other side of the door.

“ _ What _ is so funny?” she demanded in full mother mode, holding the ruined garment away from her legs.  Even as she asked, she could feel the tug of a grin at her lip as she beheld the situation.

“Y-you, heh heh heh, oh man, _heh heh_ , you, uh, sound a little _hot_ _and bothered_ over there lady, eheheh…”

Toriel pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze at the crack in the door. She hoped he could feel the glare.

After a few seconds, she couldn’t contain her own giggle.

“Hee hee… Goodness sentry, I don’t know what came over me. Must have been the  _ heat _ of the moment.”

“Had a feeling there was a  _ spark _ between us, lady.”

“I can’t rem _ ember _ the last time this happened to me.”

“Careful, if this happens too often, you might become…  _ flame _ ous for it.”

Toriel couldn’t recall laughing as hard in the longest time.

The ache in her ribs, the embarrassing sound of snorts interspersed within her glee—she could honestly say she’d missed them.

She sank back down to her seat against the door, listening to the echoing duet of mirth between her and the sentry. Despite the door’s thickness, his own laugh bounced with hers along the corridor’s walls. She found it a pleasant sound.

“Oh, goodness me…” she exhaled, nearly out of breath, brushing flakes of burnt fabric from her lap.

She listened to the last lingering bouts of chuckles from the monster behind her, oddly content.

It had just been confirmed to her that her husband had indeed murdered the six children she had cared for, and here she was, elated from a series of fire-related puns.

She leaned her head back against the stone and closed her eyes.

She should be raging, weeping, destroying all in her sight, including this jokester sentry who seemed to have no lingering sadness for the deaths of human youths.

But could she blame him?

She had known those children—fed them, clothed them, healed them, nurtured them for their stays that seemed to grow briefer and briefer each time.

He had not, she assumed.

He didn’t know the little girls’ fears and wonders, the little boys’ triumphs and regrets. Presumably no one in the entire rest of the underground knew of the children’s favorite foods, or stories, or animals, or school subjects, or memories…

_ None but I will remember them for what they were. _

They were not just SOULs.

They were souls.

Such small, patient, brave, honest, persistent, kind, righteous, determined souls.

And she loved each one of them.

So why has confirmation of their deaths not rendered her into a blind fury?

She couldn’t say.

She felt tired.

“Thanks, lady.”

Toriel lifted her head up, broken from her reverie. “Hm?”

The sentry let out a long sigh. “Think I needed some good laughs, some bad jokes… It’s been a good break, heh.”

She raised a brow. “Hold on, isn’t it just your first day?”

“Huh? Yeah, why?”

“And you have received a break already?”

“Well, maybe not  _ received _ , but I’d say I sure took one just now.”

Toriel brought a hand to her face. “Oh, I kept you from your job. And on your  _ first day _ , oh…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I feel like I’ll be taking a lot of breaks from now on.”

For some reason, Toriel felt a warmth spread to her cheeks. She shifted in her spot and asked, “Oh?”

“Heh, yeah. Think I’ve worked enough for a lifetime already.”

Toriel tilted her head to the side. “Is that so?”

He didn’t seem the near-retirement type.

A shrug. “Eh, probably not, but it sure feels that way.” He paused for a moment, then there was a louder shuffle of fabric against stone, coupled with a grunt of exertion as the sentry stood up.

“Now that I think about it, I should probably go. Paps will probably be looking for me soon. Might send out the dogs, heh.”

Toriel felt herself frown. She shook it away and stood, as well. “Ah, yes. You have a station to set up, do you not?”

The sentry groaned. “Why’d you remind me?”

She chuckled. “Come now, you can do it. You and your brother will be fine sentries. I can tell. Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Heh. Thanks for the encouragement, lady.” The sound of feet shuffling in the snow. “So, uh, do you usually hang around this door listening to other monsters’ conversations?”

Toriel flushed red. “N-no...!”

“Suuuuure, lady. Sure.”

She huffed, “Why, I have never—this was the first I—!”

“Heh heh, relax. I’m just messing with you. I’m actually kinda glad you did.”

Toriel was taken aback. “You... are?”

“Yeah. I am. Maybe, uh... maybe I could come back here once in a while? Practice some more jokes on ya? Paps is a good practice audience, but it’d be nice to have one with a more... genuine appreciation for the intricate science of puns.”

Toriel’s heart fluttered. Her mind flashed to future days, future time spent with this stranger, feeling connected again to the underground, to monsterkind. She felt a certain excitement at the thought of exchanged jokes, stories, memories. Perhaps a recipe or two could be shared, as well. She, too would like an audience, in a sense. “I... I would like that, Sir Sentry.”

“Ugh, no. Let’s end  _ that _ right now.”

She giggled. “Too formal?”

“Waaaay too formal.”

“Well, I do not even know what to call you. I don’t even know what you look like.”

The sentry hummed. “Alright, alright. I like ya, lady. So I’ll throw you a  _ bone _ .”

He let the statement hang in the air for a moment, though she didn’t quite catch any further meaning to it. “...Hm?”

_ “ Tibia _ honest, I’d rather keep my name to myself, if that’s fine. Giving it out to some estranged hermit kinda  _ ribs _ me the wrong way, y’know?”

Toriel jerked her head back, confused. “‘Hermit’? What are you—?”

“Heh heh heh, rack your  _ skull  _ for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it.” The sound of crunching snow. “Or maybe I’m being too  _ humerus. _ ”

Toriel listened to his fading footsteps, playing back his last words to her over and over in her brain. He was hinting something at her, and she just could not quite grasp it. She shook her head and, hoping he was still close enough to hear her, called out, “When will you be visiting again?”

The distant footsteps stopped. “I’ll probably come by tomorrow during my shift. Gonna have to see if I didn’t just dream you up or something.”

Toriel smirked. “As will I,” she said, more to herself than anything.

She could hear a far-off final chuckle from the sentry before his footsteps picked up again.

She listened until the steps faded to silence before turning about and walking back up the empty purple hall.

She hummed this time.


	6. Chapter 6

With lighter steps than she remembered taking in years, Toriel nearly skipped up the stairs to the foyer.

A yawn escaped her, and despite her lack of company, she covered her mouth in polite habit.

“Goodness me, what time is it?”

Giddiness aside at her newfound companion, she had lost track of time, and that worried her.

A shy grin appeared on her face as a thought came to her.

“Time flies when you are making puns, I assume.”

She chuckled.

Perhaps... this young sentry—odd though he was—would be a good distraction for her.

_ He seemed harmless enough… _ she thought to herself again.

At the very least, in his company she would certainly discover new jokes to write in her journal.

Her smile grew at the thought.

Her musings were short-lived, however, as the pie on the window sill caught her eye.

Hurrying over, she gasped, “The pie! Oh, how could I have been so—”

She straightened at the sight before her.

A large portion of the pie had been scooped out haphazardly and, presumably, consumed.

On the sill sat a few crumbs of pie crust and what looked like dirt.

Toriel’s eye twitched.

Her motherly instincts bubbled to the surface, initiating a lust to scold.

“Who...  _ w _ - _ who... _ ” she whispered, shaking hands gripping the pie pan.

Rather than a pleasing smell, a raging shout crackled through the winding catacombs.

_ “Who did not use a plate?!” _

 

* * *

 

Under the light of the moon, a lone creature listened to a boss monster’s bellow.

He giggled and settled himself in a newly thinned patch of golden flowers to watch the stars through a distant hole.

It was not much, but it was enough.

Though he felt nothing, he could appreciate the twinkling of real stars, and the taste of a good pie.

It was his favorite, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends the first fic I've finished in years. Feels good to get it out there.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> Have a lovely day/night! c:
> 
> \--MtM


End file.
